


Christmas At The Bunker

by Jld71



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Driving, Gen, Rain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 22:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16105199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jld71/pseuds/Jld71
Summary: It's Christmas time. Sam and Dean return to the Bunker.





	Christmas At The Bunker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marciaelena](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marciaelena/gifts).



> Written for the SPN_Summergen Challenge.  
> Artwork created by jdl71/jld71  
> Thank you to jj1564 for being a wonderful beta.

 

Christmas At The Bunker

 

Christmas lights twinkled everywhere; it was almost blinding at times, and Dean found himself having to shield his eyes as he drove. He huffed out in frustration, damn Christmas, why did it have to happen every year? Realistically he knew why - to celebrate the birth of Christ. If those unsuspecting people only knew, he thought to himself, what the foundation of Christmas was built on, a pagan based festival known as the Winter Solstice. He fought down a shudder as he remembered the fight he and Sam had against those two pagan gods, Madge and Edward Carrigan. To this day, he wasn’t thrilled to see Christmas decorations, especially wreaths. 

 

Now, as he continued the drive, he noticed the light displays had lessened and the only thing not hurting his eyes was the rain. He normally found rain to be soothing. It washed away the bad, giving the day a fresh start. He rolled down his window and stuck his hand out, letting the drops of rain fall against his skin. It was a cold rain; it would be since it was December in Kansas. The temperatures ranged between 20 to 45 degrees. He was just happy they weren’t driving in snow. What few inches they had gotten a few days earlier had been washed away by the rain. The sound of slush hitting the tires lulled him into an easy feeling.

 

He looked over at Sam. His brother’s head rested against the back of his seat. His eyes were closed, his face was relaxed and the soft even breaths Sam took told Dean he was asleep. He smiled - at least one of them was able to get some shuteye.

 

Aside from the fact that he was driving, he’d been keyed up after their last hunt. They’d driven twenty-seven hours to Forks, WA to take out a nest of vampires before they could do any more damage to the normally quiet city. He pulled his hand back in, rolled up the window and began to drum his fingers on the steering wheel. He gave a small satisfied sound at the fact that they were still standing, he and Sam. They had given as good as they got against the vamps. The nest hadn’t gone down without a fight, but they had come out alive. It counted as a win as far as he was concerned.

 

His stomach growled, cutting through the silence of the car, reminding him that neither of them had eaten since that morning. Scratch that, since yesterday, he noted as he glanced at his watch and noticed it was past one a.m.

 

The neon light up ahead was like a beacon of hope as he rounded the corner. They still had three hours of driving before they reached the bunker. He weighed his options - drive until they were home with his stomach twisting in on itself, or pull over at the all-night diner. He gave a little sigh, what to do? His stomach gurgled in protest at the thought of continuing on. So, stopping for food it was, he reasoned with himself. As he pulled into the parking lot of the  _ Sunnyside Diner _ , he nudged Sam with his elbow. 

 

Sam stirred in his seat, eyes snapping open as he felt something or someone touching him. He looked around, trying to figure out where he was. He noticed the dashboard first and turned to his left to find Dean sitting next to him with a smile on his face.

 

“Come on, Sammy. Rise and shine,” Dean greeted Sam, before pushing open the car door, getting out and closing the door behind him.

 

Sam rubbed at his tired eyes, trying to focus on his watch. It was dark out, that much he was able to gather as his sleep addled brain tried to come back online. What the hell time was it anyway, he wondered to himself. “Dean, where are we?” Sam croaked out, his voice rough from sleep. He got out of the car and looked at the diner and then back at Dean, confusion clearly showing on his face. The last thing he remembered was the city limit of Forks, WA from the side mirror as they left.

 

Dean threw his arms open. “ _ Sunnyside Diner _ ,” he responded, as if that was supposed to make sense to Sam. He turned and walked into the diner as the bell over the door jingled, announcing their arrival.

 

Still not firing on all cylinders, Sam forced himself to follow Dean inside. He blinked several times, trying to adjust his eyes to the harsh overhead fluorescent lighting.

 

A sign by the door instructed them to sit at any clean and empty booth. Dean flicked the sign and walked past it, picking a booth away from the door and the large picture window. Instinctively, Sam knew where Dean had chosen to sit would give them a better vantage point of the diner should some threat arise. He just hoped nothing supernatural came at them. Despite catching some sleep in the car he, wasn’t at his best right now and had no desire to fight anything off.

 

Dean slid into the booth, facing out so he had a view of the front door and anyone coming at them. He raised an eyebrow at Sam and his lips quirked up into a grin. “You just gonna stand there?” Dean questioned before grabbing one of the menus to look over.

 

“Uh, right,” Sam responded as he shuffled over to the table. He slid in to the booth opposite Dean and grabbed the menu. He looked up and noticed he had a view of the back of the diner. The way they were sitting left no chance of someone or something sneaking up on them. Between the two of them, all the exits and areas in the diner were covered. They’d be able to see any threat before it was on them. 

 

“Pancakes,” Dean announced. “I’m in the mood or pancakes.”

 

Sam glanced at the menu, not sure of what he wanted or if he even wanted anything to eat.

 

“Be right with you boys,” a female voice called from across the diner. 

 

A moment later they heard soft footsteps approaching. They looked up to see a middle-aged woman standing next to their booth. 

 

“What can I get you boys to start off with?” the waitress asked with a smile.

 

Dean returned the smile and noted her name tag which read Sherri with an I and a heart dotting it, instead of a Y. “Coffee’s fine for me, black. My brother’s still a little out of it after our long drive. He’ll just have some orange juice for now.” 

 

“Sure thing, honey,” Sherri said and gave him a little wink before retreating to the kitchen to fill their drink order. She returned a few minutes later with the coffee and orange juice and set the drinks down in front of them. She pulled out her order pad and tapped the menu that was still in front of Sam. “Ready to order?”

 

“I’ll have the short stack of blueberry pancakes with bacon.” Dean responded.

 

“And you, sweetheart?” She asked as she nudged Sam.

 

“Just an egg white omelette,” Sam said with a smile, as he placed the menu back in its holder at the back of the table. 

 

“Sure thing. Just give me a holler if you need anything else.” 

 

Sam and Dean both nodded as she left them to place their order with the cook.

 

Sam leaned his head back and closed his eyes. He still felt tired from the hunt and the drive, even though he hadn’t been the one doing the driving. He appreciated the fact that Dean sat quietly, letting him recharge his battery.

 

The clatter of plates brought Sam around. He blinked and smiled at Sherri as she placed his food in front of him.

 

“Can I get you two anything else?” She asked and waited for them to answer. She watched as they nodded ‘no’ and then walked away to check on her other customers. 

 

Dean picked up his knife and fork and started carving up his pancakes. He popped a piece into his mouth and he gave a low moan around the food before swallowing. He offered Sam a bite and chuckled as Sam grimaced at him before Dean popped the offered pancake into his mouth. Neither spoke as they ate.

 

Dean pushed his plate away from himself and leaned back against his seat. “That hit the spot. You done? We should be heading out. We’re still about three hours away from the bunker.” He watched as Sam raised his eyebrows at him. “Stomach won out over driving.” Dean grinned at Sam and motioned for their waitress. He smiled as she approached them. “Can I get the check, please?”

 

Sherri pulled out her order pad from her apron and slid the bill across the table to him. She eyed the empty plates and smiled. “Hope you enjoyed the food, and we’re always open,” she said as she walked away.

 

Dean picked up the check and glanced at it. He smirked to himself as he noticed the little note; ‘stop by anytime,’ along with her phone number. Sliding out of the booth, Dean pulled his money out of his pocket and placed the amount of the bill and tip on the table before pocketing the check. He wasn’t interested in the woman, but he didn’t want to insult her. He walked out of the diner, followed by Sam as he thanked their waitress. 

 

As they got to the car, he pulled the check out of his pocket and handed it to Sam. “I think this was left for you. Sherri seemed to have taken a liking to you.” Dean grinned at Sam.

 

Sam grabbed the paper and looked at it. He chuckled as he read it. “No dude, this was absolutely meant for you!” He quipped as they both got into the Impala. 

 

The remainder of the drive was quiet and uneventful. Sam dozed off and on as Dean hummed along to the songs of one of his mixtapes he had popped into the stereo. When Dean pulled into the bunker’s garage, Sam shifted in his seat. He was ready to get out. His legs itched to be stretched and he felt cramped after having been in the car for over twenty-four hours. He hauled himself out of the car and stretched, feeling his tired and cramped muscles align. He groaned at the action. His head snapped up when he heard Dean crack his spine and winced at the sound. At least he hadn’t been stuck in the same position while driving.

 

“I need a shower and then my bed. Memory foam, I’m coming.” Dean called out before disappearing to his room, leaving Sam to entertain himself.

 

Sam smiled to himself. He knew just what to do to pass the time since he was now wide awake after sleeping for most of the drive back. With his plan in place, he shuffled to one of the bunker’s storage rooms that he knew held what he needed. Turning the light on, he searched through several boxes until he found what he was looking for. He moved everything into the library and began setting things up the way he wanted. When he was done, he stepped back and admired his handiwork. He wasn’t sure how Dean would react to this display. They rarely celebrated birthdays, let alone holidays. But Sam was determined to change that, even if he dragged Dean kicking and screaming into the celebratory joy of Christmas. With that thought, he sat back on the couch, cracked open his laptop and started reading the historical novel he’d downloaded before they had left on this last hunt. 

 

Five hours later, Sam looked up from his reading to see Dean standing in the doorway with a dismayed look on his face. He rubbed the back of his head with one hand as the other held a cup of coffee. He looked at Sam, opened his mouth to speak only to snap it shut. He did this several times before taking a few steps forward and entering the room and stopping. He turned to Sam, face scrunched up in confusion. He was clearly trying to comprehend what he was looking at. “What the hell is that?” Dean demanded in a voice filled with uncertainty. He took a sip of his coffee as he waited for Sam to answer him.   

 

Sam rolled his eyes at Dean before answering him. “Dean, it’s a Christmas tree. It’s Christmas Eve,” he said as he closed his laptop and set it down on the couch next to himself. “Let me guess, you forgot the date or didn’t give it a second thought,” Sam said matter-of-factly. If Dean had forgotten or not even thought about what time of year it was, Sam wouldn’t have been surprised. It wasn’t something Dean kept track of or really concerned himself with. 

 

Dean snorted at Sam. “No, Sammy, I did think about it. I even bought food to celebrate Christmas Eve and Christmas Day with.” He shrugged his shoulders at Sam, trying to seem nonchalant as Sam stared at him in disbelief. He knew things like this were important to Sam and he was trying his best to give in a little to things like this. He finished his coffee before continuing to speak to his brother.

“What I bought for Christmas Eve to make was spaghetti and sauce, along with meatballs and garlic bread, even though those are frozen. I wasn’t really planning on cooking anything too special since I knew we were leaving for this hunt and I wasn’t sure if we’d be back in time. But, for Christmas, there’s a chicken pot pie in the freezer, and there’s potatoes and stuff to go with it.” Dean shrugged his shoulders as he turned and walked out of the room. “Oh, there’s also apple pie, bitch.” Dean’s voice wafted back at Sam from the hallway. 

“You’re such a jerk!” Sam yelled back at Dean before chuckling to himself. He had to admit, he was shocked by this turn of events. Dean had thought ahead; he’d actually planned dinner for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, something more than a fast food burger or gas station fare. There was hope for Dean yet. It didn’t matter to Sam if they exchanged gifts, even though he had a present for Dean. What mattered to him was that they were together; they were family.

As Dean retreated to his room, he smiled to himself. Sam would be surprised come Christmas morning. He’d planned ahead aside from the food he’d bought, even though he hadn’t been sure if they’d be back in the bunker in time to celebrate. He had bought food that could be frozen or would keep for a few days until they were back home. He’d even gone out and shopped for a present for Sam. This year, there wouldn’t be some hastily purchased car deodorizer, razors and shaving cream, or deodorant purchased from some gas station or convenience store they were passing by as they drove from one hunt to another. Even he’d realized that they’d finally put down roots; they’d made a home for themselves in the bunker. Yeah, Sam would be surprised, he mused to himself.

He’d returned from his room showered and dressed to find Sam gone from the library. His laptop was still sitting on the couch where he’d left it earlier. Dean stood and looked at the decorated Christmas tree. He walked over and clicked the lights on and let the twinkling colored lights wash over him. Sam had done a good job with putting everything together, even if he’d never admit it to his brother, he thought to himself. Maybe this would be the year he actually allowed himself to enjoy the celebration that Sam so obviously wanted them to join in. He shrugged as he walked down to Sam’s room. The door to Sam’s room was closed, which meant he was either sleeping or . . . Yeah, no reason to go there as he turned away with a shuddered. He turned and walked back to the kitchen to take stock of everything he planned on cooking for them later. He pulled out a large pot for the spaghetti and a smaller pot for the sauce and meatballs, a strainer, dishes, utensils and a baking sheet for the garlic bread. He put everything off to the side on the kitchen counter for later. Satisfied that he had everything, he grabbed a beer and sat at the table with his laptop to watch a movie to pass the time until he decided to cook dinner.

When he was done watching the movie,  _ Every Which Way But Loose _ , he closed his laptop and set about cooking dinner. As he had everything cooking, he turned to set the table. 

When he was nearly finished, he heard Sam’s movements as his brother entered the kitchen. 

“Smells good,” Sam said, he had a wide smile on his face showing his dimples in full force. 

“Almost done,” Dean responded and smiled back at his brother, seeing the happiness on Sam’s face. Looking at his brother right then, he saw the wide-eyed innocent kid he once was before he’d been pulled into this world they now lived in looking back at him. “Go sit,” he said as he turned back to finish cooking. 

Without a word, Sam sat watching Dean as he moved around the kitchen. He knew Dean loved to cook and it shocked people when they found out he was really good at it. In another lifetime, Sam could imagine Dean as a chef or an owner of a small diner or a cafe. No, not a cafe, that would be too pretentious for his down to earth brother. He was so lost in thought that he hadn’t even noticed when Dean placed a plate of steaming spaghetti and meatballs in front of him or passed the grated cheese his way.

“Sam, you gonna eat or let your food get cold?” Dean asked as he regarded his brother.

Sam looked up at Dean. “Sorry . . . wow this looks good,” he said sheepishly as he picked up his fork and dug in. A moan escaped his lips as he chewed and swallowed his dinner. Nothing compared to a home cooked meal, even if some of it had been premade.

“Uh, should I leave you two alone?” Dean quipped at his brother as he lifted his fork to his lips.

“Shut up,” Sam said as he smiled at the joke his brother had made at his expense. “Thanks Dean, this is good.” A mumbled ‘yeah’ was all the response he got, knowing Dean wasn’t one for compliments; giving or receiving them. Dean hadn’t been on the receiving end of too many of them when they’d been growing up.

After dinner was finished and they had cleaned up, they settled down in the library to watch a movie together. Sam had let Dean pick the movie,  _ Die Hard _ , as usual. It was the closest Dean would get to watching an actual Christmas movie. Sam would have rather watched  _ White Christmas _ or even  _ The Santa Clause _ , but he wasn’t going to push his luck.

When the movie was done, they went to their respective rooms for the night. Once Dean was sure Sam was in his room, he grabbed his gifts, because, okay he’d seen a couple he knew would be perfect for Sam, and made his way back to the library. He deposited his gifts under the tree and noticed that Sam had yet to place anything there. Without giving it another thought, he returned to his room, happy to get a few hours of shuteye, nothing beat his memory foam mattress. Well, except maybe a memory foam mattress equipped with Magic Fingers. He hummed at that sinful thought and then cast a wistful eye at his bed. All other thoughts were lost as he laid down, closed his eyes and let sleep claim him.

Sam woke with a start. As he sat up and threw his legs over the side of the bed, he realized what day it was, Christmas Day. He scrambled out of bed and to his closet to grab the gifts he had for Dean. He placed them on the bed and went to get dressed. He made his way down the hallway to the library and stopped short as he looked at the tree. 

 

 

“Looks like Santa was a little late with some gifts.” 

Sam spun around to find Dean standing behind him, his hands full with two cups of coffee. 

“Those for me? Because I’ve been a good boy this year,” Dean snorted at his own joke.

“Yeah, we’ll go with that,” Sam said as he placed the gifts on the couch and accepted a cup of coffee that Dean offered him. “Are those for me?” Sam asked as he motioned to the tree with his free hand. He was still a little surprised to see that Dean had actually gone to the trouble of Christmas shopping for him. The usual gift from Dean was something bought at a gas station.

He smiled at the thought that Dean had moved out of his comfort zone.

“Well, you’re the only other person here, so I guess so.” Dean set his coffee down on the coffee table to retrieve Sam’s gifts and hand them to him. “Merry Christmas, Sam.” Dean watched as Sam began to open his first gift, a historical book on the Romanovs and Imperial Russia. Dean watched as Sam blinked several times, his shock clearly showing on his face. He watched as Sam smiled and placed the book down to open the next gift, another book on doomed queens in history. Sam gave him another smile as he placed the second book with the first and picked up the last gift and opened it. He watched as Sam threw his head back and laughed at the last gift, a t-shirt that had a coffee mug on it with the words,  _ ‘coffee first then history’ _ printed on it.

“Thanks Dean, these are great.” He had to fight the urge to hug his brother. Dean had put some thought into these gifts. Now, he hoped Dean would like what he’d gotten him as he handed Dean his first gift. He watched as Dean tore off the paper and smiled at the boxed set of Clint Eastwood’s best films from throughout his career. Sam watched as Dean ran a finger over the listing, his smile growing wider as he set the gift down. Sam handed him the second gift, a book on the history of the Chevy Impala. Sam watched as Dean flipped the book over to read the synopsis before putting it with his other gift. Sam handed the last gift to Dean and sat down to watch Dean’s reaction as he opened it and realized just what it was. 

Dean tore the wrapping paper from the last gift and stood there, looking at it in shock. It was like Sam had read his mind; the very sinful and sensual part of his mind and had somehow figured out what he’d been hoping for. He looked down at the box then his brother and then back at the box; Magic Fingers for his bed. It was a Christmas miracle as far as he was concerned; he read over the box taking in the fact that he could have an hour of Heaven at his fingertips whenever he wanted. “Thanks, Sam,” he breathed out. “So, uh, yeah. I’ll let you know when we’re gonna eat. Right now . . .”

Sam held up his hand and stopped Dean from any further explanation. “Yeah, Dean, I get it,” he said as he picked up the book on the Romanovs and began to thumb through it. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye as Dean picked up his gifts and walked toward the hallway to his room.

As Dean walked to the door, he stopped and turned back. “Merry Christmas, Sammy,” he said before he disappeared to his room.

“Merry Christmas, Dean,” Sam called out to him and chuckled at his brother. At least they both had gotten some pretty good gifts and had spent Christmas morning together. As far as dinner was concerned, he wondered if he would have to drag Dean away from his gift or if it would just be easier to cook the chicken pot pie himself. Yeah, it would definitely be easier to cook it himself, he thought as he settled down to read.

  
  



End file.
